Reese ate several pieces of her lettuce. Even more went into her balled up paper napkin until it looked like an origami interpretation of the surface of the moon. Round and full of craters.
Knight didn’t notice.
Flicking her finger over a crouton, she picked it up and pouched it in her cheek squirrel-style. Maybe it would be more exciting if she sucked on it instead of biting it. A second later it was soggy and gross and she hid it in her napkin with the growing compost pile already there.
“Do you need my napkin?” Knight asked, startling her into dropping her fork.
“Huh? Uh, no thanks.”
“Because yours looks about to burst from all that lettuce you’ve stuffed in there. ”
She grimaced. “How did you do that? You weren’t even looking at me. How could you know I was hiding lettuce in my napkin?”
“Nothing gets by a Fed. We’re trained to notice everything.” He bit a cherry tomato.
“Well, do you notice me getting annoyed with you?”
Abandoning pretense, she tossed the salad on the nightstand and reached for the Bud Light and the cheesecake.
“I notice you like me more than you want to.”
“Pff.”Her fork dipped into the cheesecake. This was a much better use for a utensil than stabbing a broccoli floret.
If Knight wanted her to gush about her feelings, he’d picked the wrong girl.
“You going to save any of that cheesecake for me?”
Was he nuts? Reese attacked the back end, wanting more of the graham cracker crust. “You can have the carrot cake.”
Maybe. If he was quick.
“Actually, I should probably go in a minute.”
His hands were in her hair, brushing and smoothing along the strands, tucking behind her ear.
It was such a simple gesture, but so intimate, that she balked. This was not what she was here for, and there was no such thing as a happily ever after.
What she wanted was a well-paying prestigious journalism career and a chance to see the world outside of Brooklyn. Not maternity stretch pants, a mortgage, and a husband who could be killed any day on the job.
Not that Knight was leaping that far ahead. But the more they were together, the softer the look in his eyes, and it scared the hell out of her.
Because sometimes, for a split second, in the back of her sex-fried mind, she didn’t think it seemed all that bad. Satisfying, even.
God help her.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Derek was waitingfor Markson in the Holiday Inn at seven-thirty A.M. Maddock was lying on the bed, his suit jacket off, flicking through the TV channels. CJ White was pacing, tossing Maddock a look of annoyance every few seconds.
“If there are too many of us here, he might balk,” CJ said.
“Why doesn’t Maddock leave?”
Maddock snorted. “I’ve met the guy before. He likes me, he trusts me. Maybe you should leave.”
Derek sighed, tossing the consent forms he’d been clutching down on the table. These two were driving him nuts. Every time they were in a room together, tension rose about three hundred percent.
“No one is leaving. Now let’s not be bickering when the guy shows up, alright?” He wasn’t about to admit it, but Derek was nervous. Or scared shitless, if that’s how you wanted to put it.